


Vagrant Heart

by TheMagicCrayon



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Ending, Infinite Tsukuyomi, M/M, Not Chapter 700 Compliant, Post-Chapter 699, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-28
Updated: 2015-03-28
Packaged: 2018-03-20 02:13:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3632814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMagicCrayon/pseuds/TheMagicCrayon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"When are you coming home?" Naruto says, softly softly, after what seems like an age.<br/>"Konoha isn't—"<br/>"Home anymore. I know," Naruto interrupts. "But what is home? To you?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vagrant Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Direct quotes from the Naruto manga belong to Masashi Kishimoto with translations courtesy of mangastream.com.
> 
> Lots of love to the glorious fangirlandiknowit, who took the time to proofread this. Check out her [stories](http://archiveofourown.org/users/fangirlandiknowit)!

“Because we’re friends,” Naruto says, and Sasuke thinks, “ _Like hell we are.”_

Sasuke may have tried to keep himself free of emotional attachments since he left Konoha, but he’s had friends and he knows what friendship is. Naruto taught him that. And even if he cannot attest to have any worldly connections besides Naruto, he has watched people. He has seen the devotion and love present in even shallow comradeships; he knows that, especially for a person like Naruto, friendship is something sacred and immensely powerful.

But still, Sasuke has rarely seen friendships—even the most dysfunctional ones—quite like what he and Naruto share. It _is_ possible that the soul-deep thing churning between them could be only a weathered and intricate friendship, written out by fate. It’s possible that it is brotherhood—the resurgence of the brotherly rivalry, contention, and love acted out in the lives of Indra and Ashura. And, yes, it _is_ those things—both of them.

But it’s also _more_ than that, and Sasuke knows it (can feel it now, in the alloy of serenity and frantic desperation that heralds his life’s denouement). Looking over at blue eyes staring back at him, half-lidded with bone-deep weariness and the weight of everything hovering between them, Sasuke is convinced that Naruto must know it, too.

Because, really, if their relationship had been anything less than what it is, Sasuke would not have been so desperate to die by Naruto’s hand only hours before, here in the Valley of the End.

It frustrates and confuses Sasuke in equal measure that Naruto would still use a word like “friend” to describe what Sasuke is to him, when they both know what a titanic understatement that is. Friend, enemy, rival, brother, desideratum—none of those things; all of those things.

“You’ve already said that,” Sasuke says. “But what exactly does ‘friend’ mean to you?”  His eyes watch Naruto, and he doesn’t know what he wants to hear.

But when Naruto answers, Sasuke thinks “ _Yes._ ” Because he knows that feeling, that hurt, that inadequacy, that drive. He can see it now, clear as the sky above them. Even after all they know now about the spiritual resonance between them, this new way in which they resonate—or have always resonated without knowing—is paramount. It is something he can die with. And so is this: a painful clench of his heart, life fluttering away on a crow’s wings, the bittersweet taste of foiled plans. Phantom hands.

It’s enough.

>>> 

 

What is only a matter of hours in real life translates to days, months, years, decades, even lifetimes within the Infinite Tsukuyomi. When the jutsu is released, it takes even the most resilient and stoic shinobi nearly an hour to shake off the confusion and begin contributing to the relief effort.

It is immediately apparent that some are more affected than others—a truth that proves to be less dependent upon the strength of the individual, and more upon the intensity of the desire fulfilled by the genjutsu. As could be expected, not everyone is happy to return to reality. A number of people fly into hysteria, incapable of dealing with the existential displacement, and even more fall into shock.

Rock Lee is . . . okay.

The Infinite Tsukuyomi, to him, felt like two years and a handful of months. In that time, Lee reached all of the goals he set for himself as a genin. The itch of inadequacy, buried deeply for years under determination and bluster, was eased when he bested Neji, his oldest rival, and even Naruto, his fiercest competition on both the training field and the battleground of love.

Soon after, his most important person and object of his unrequited affections for years, Haruno Sakura, agreed to go on a date with him. To his surprise and delight, she seemed to share his feelings, and their relationship developed gently and sweetly from there.

Even so, it was shocking how realistic the genjutsu seemed to be, even though it was meant to throw its victim into a life of delirious happiness. Because Rock Lee _was_ deliriously happy, except when he wasn’t. Not that he was ever _un_ happy, per se. But it seemed that getting everything he ever thought he wanted made him realize that . . . well, he didn’t know himself as well as he thought he did.

Not that his bliss was unwanted, no. It was just far more complicated than he had first assumed. Not because he didn’t love Sakura. He did. She was an exceptional kunoichi, and being around her made him happier than mastering even the most difficult taijutsu technique. She was his most important person, and the months spent with her only solidified that in Lee’s mind.

He enjoyed the easy affection they developed. Sitting next to each other, holding hands, bumping shoulders, friendly shoves that would have launched him through a nearby storefront had he not been wearing 250-pound training weights on each of his limbs. It was perfect; it made warmth bloom in his chest.

When she kissed him, too, he was okay with that. It was nice.

But that was all. Just nice. And just a bit . . . gross. The few times they had crept further into uncharted territory, Lee had only felt uncomfortable. Which was absurd: it was _Sakura_.

So, it was slow in coming, Lee’s realization that he wanted Sakura—he really did—in every way but _that_ one. And when the truth finally solidified in his mind, he began to fear with ever-increasing horror what sort of repercussions it might have on their relationship. He also began to fear what could be wrong with him that would repel him from such a natural and youthful thing.

But, as always, Gai-sensei was a source of infinite wisdom, and Sakura, in all her graciousness, was fully understanding. And, because this was the perfect world created by the Infinite Tsukuyomi, Sakura was willing to stay with him and play along with the chaste relationship that Lee wanted. So, in time, a happy, domestic equilibrium was reached and the days adopted the soft texture of normalcy.

Thus, Lee spent the first imagined year and a half in his dream world. In the following year and some months, however, things started to change. He finally reached the monumental achievement of becoming a jounin despite being capable of neither ninjutsu nor genjutsu. Perhaps because of this, his ultimate rival, Hyuuga Neji began to overcome the bitterness of having been defeated by Konoha’s Beautiful Green Beast and began to treat him with respect. Camaraderie, even.

Although Neji remained as taciturn and outwardly belittling as ever, their bond continued to grow stronger over time. As their friendship strengthened, however, so did a feeling of unrest within Rock Lee.

He was not the kind of person to dwell much on little nuances of emotion, of course, but every now and then Lee would probe gently at the new, innominate feeling in his mind. Bit by bit, he began to feel as if he were drawing close to something—a realization. It had something to do with Neji; he knew that. And he was almost there, so close to figuring out what this one lingering discomfort was—this itch that seemed to bother him the most when he was training or relaxing with his friend and rival—but, suddenly, the Infinite Tsukuyomi was released.

Lee awakens on a battlefield feeling like he has just been ripped from a dream before the most pivotal moment. Memories slam into him like a roundhouse from Gai-sensei. The same Gai-sensei who lies on the ground right in front of him, unconscious and broken. Neji is dead. Neji is _dead._ In this world, in _reality_ , he has never defeated Neji or Naruto, and what he had with Sakura doesn’t exist. This Sakura barely acknowledges that _he_ exists.

This is reality. This is the bitter truth that Neji gave his life to protect. What he and the rest of the united shinobi forces fought so hard to keep.

It hurts like hell.

But Lee is okay. Or, he will be. He has to be. He is handling it better than some, at least. Better than . . .

Lee looks across Gai-sensei’s prone body and sees the Kazekage, Gaara of the Sand, sitting less than five meters away. Gaara isn’t moving a muscle, barely breathing, propped on his hands and staring with unseeing eyes out at the shinobi masses.

Gaara’s face is perfectly blank, could have been cut from stone, but he radiates something. It rolls over Lee like a black tide, and he can’t imagine.

Gaara hurt Lee, years ago. Tried to kill him twice. But then he saved Lee’s life, a changed boy (or at least a boy more in control of his homicidal urges), and Lee has never been one to hold grudges. It was easy to forgive Gaara after that, especially since Lee respected him, pitied him for what he knew of the Sand shinobi’s past, and felt a kinship with him that only lonely, wounded children can feel. Lee considers Gaara a friend, Kazekage or not.

And that’s probably why now, as he watches Gaara silently grieve for the loss of a cruel dream, Rock Lee hurts.

>>> 

To Sabaku no Gaara, the Infinite Tsukuyomi lasted seventeen years. During that time, he felt. He felt keenly and without fear, emotions that were not anger, hate, hurt, or sadness. He smiled and laughed and played like a child should. He loved. Loved his parents, his brother and sister, and his uncle Yashamaru. Loved his best friend Naruto.

Affection, friendship, a normal childhood—even as a jinchūriki, it was enough to make Gaara’s life something entirely different. Still powerful, still dangerous, still quiet, and still destined to protect Sunagakure as the Godaime Kazekage, but easier to laugh, easier to smile, easier to give and accept love, and considerably more stable mentally.

Visits from the son of Konohagakure’s Hokage were not as often as a young Gaara might have liked, but they were enough to form an intense and lasting bond that only grew stronger as the two boys matured.

When they were seventeen-year-old chuunin of Sunagakure and Konohagakure respectively, Gaara and Naruto slipped out on a mission sanctioned by neither village to take down a small group of missing nin in the Land of Rivers. It was an S-Rank mission, but they completed it in less than forty-eight hours without major incident. On the banks of a swollen stream, gingerly bandaging their wounds and drunk on victory, they clasped hands around a kunai.

Gaara got the scolding of a lifetime from everyone but Kankuro when he returned home, but no one questioned the bandage around his right hand when the splint on his leg seemed much more urgent. His mother saw it when she helped him dress his wounds later, though, the soft pad of her thumb gently tracing the evidence of his and Naruto’s covenant.

“I don’t regret it,” he told her when she looked up at him with wide eyes, and it was the equivalent of admitting that he made the covenant on an impulse, but it was still the truth, radiating out from his marrow. He had never regretted anything less.

“I know,” she said, and added, in the embarrassing way mothers do, “You’re glowing.”

It remained quietly between them, but when weeks later his mother, with a smug smile and a wink, gave her son a _hakama_ with a belt of white hemp *, Gaara cursed the inherent need in mothers to mortify their children.

Even so, he appreciated when, eight months later, she dropped the suggestion to his father to appoint him Official Military Liaison to the Land of Fire on behalf of the Land of Wind. The Kazekage was reluctant, but he ultimately conceded. With his approval, it was only a matter of time before Gaara found himself sharing an apartment with Naruto in Konoha.

Living with his loudmouth best friend proved frustrating, exhausting, and better than Gaara ever dreamed it would be. Years passed to make jounin and heroes of both of them. Neither learned to cook. Naruto’s bedroom became a storage space.

Gaara was stepping back through the gates of Konoha, just returned from a visit to Suna and missing Naruto and his home with weary, single-minded longing when the Infinite Tsukuyomi crumbled around him.

>>> 

In the world conjured for Hyuuga Hinata by the Infinite Tsukuyomi, she married Naruto, the hero of the five great nations. She later gave birth to a son named Boruto and a daughter named Himawari. Neji was alive.

She watched Naruto, as always, as he ascended to take his place as Nanadaime Hokage of the Land of Fire. She watched as peace disseminated throughout the five nations and her friends settled into a life of peace and happiness. She watched her son grow into an almost mirror image of his father at the same age, a walking attitude problem. Himawari was an angel, except for when she wasn’t.

Hinata was loved. She had everything she always wanted. She was happy.

When the spell of the Infinite Tsukuyomi is broken, she wakes up to a world in which her brother is dead and her son and daughter do not exist. She feels like she is in a nightmare, the worst she’s ever had. But with an injured woman groaning on her right and a broken man weeping on her left, Hinata knows she doesn’t get to be upset. Not right now.

Later. Later she will cry and ache and mourn, but right now she has a job to do.

>>> 

Gaara tenses when he feels something touch his left shoulder, but at least some dim part of his brain must have acknowledged a soft voice saying his name, otherwise his automatic defenses would have taken effect. Or maybe there’s just no fight left in Gaara, not even in the deep, primal parts of him. He isn’t sure. All of the gates in his mind that had been opened to him in the genjutsu are now back to the way they were what seems like a lifetime ago—steel bars, doubly reinforced.

It feels like hours before Gaara dredges up the presence of mind to see whose hand is resting on his shoulder, but, when he does, he feels like he’s moving through quicksand. His eyes find the dirty, bandaged hand and follow it up to a green jumpsuit and bowl cut, both ruined with blood and sweat.

Rock Lee, of all people, sits cross-legged next to him, one hand on Gaara’s shoulder and the other gripping his comatose sensei’s jounin vest. Round, black eyes stare blindly into the wasteland, lost.

After a moment of staring, Lee seems to sense Gaara watching him. He turns his head to meet the Kazekage’s eyes but says nothing. The hand on Gaara’s shoulder squeezes gently, and, just like that, something unfurls within the Kazekage. He buries his face in his knees and shakes.

>>> 

The curtain closes at last on the Fourth Shinobi World War, leaving so much in ruins. Aside from the portion of the village that still remains to be rebuilt in the aftermath of Pain’s attack on Konoha, the survivors find themselves hefting the weight of mountainous post-war responsibilities, like economic changes that must be drafted and put into effect, positions of power that need to change hands, and the sudden increase in war orphans within all five countries.

Very soon after the final battle, Tsunade hands over her Hokage robes to Hatake Kakashi, leaving him in charge of the political fallout while she busies herself with hands-on work.

Naruto and Sasuke, despite their substantial injuries, recover quickly in the days following their fight. It is not easy for Naruto to watch the difficulty with which Sasuke steps back through the gates of Konoha, but it is even more difficult to watch as he is marched back into his native land as a prisoner. Naruto argues at length and high volume over the stupidity of it, but his protests are either ignored or systematically cut off, often by Sasuke himself who claims to be tired of Naruto’s obnoxious voice.

As soon as the Leaf shinobi are settled back into the city, Naruto’s life becomes a tireless whirlwind of activity. When he isn’t attending excruciatingly dull meetings at Hokage Tower to talk about something or another to do with war or rebuilding or politics (or, less boring, arguing for Sasuke’s pardon), he is helping in whatever ways he can to restore Konoha to its former glory—teaching himself to live and work with only one arm in the process. Naruto attends so many memorials for the dead that they all blend together in his mind into one floral-scented smudge of black clothes and tears.

For weeks, he does not find the time, energy, or courage to go visit Sasuke who is, according to Sakura, actively brooding under house arrest. When he finally gets the chance, three weeks after their return to Konoha, the two of them sit awkwardly around the low table of Sasuke’s family home, untouched cups of tea steaming in front of them. For nearly twenty minutes they languish in thick silence until, finally, Naruto’s nerves snap. He blurts something nonsensical about the weather, and, quick as lightning, Sasuke shoots back a cutting barb.

The brief silence that follows is like a sigh of relief, and when Naruto finally hollers out an angry retort, settling them into the familiar rhythm of their old bickering, Naruto feels like _he_ is the one who has finally come home after all this time.

They don’t mention the nearly daily meetings Naruto has with Kakashi and the elders of the village to decide Sasuke’s fate, and they definitely don’t mention the tender emotions laid bare at the Valley of the End. For the time being, they pretend that the last several years were all a fever dream and the worst thing they have to deal with is still Kakashi-sensei being two hours late to everything.

Naruto would rather vivisect himself with a chopstick than let Sasuke see, but as soon as he steps out of the Uchiha compound, he feels a warmth bubble up from somewhere deep inside his chest to split his face in a grin. The smile remains helplessly on his lips all the way back to his apartment.

>>> 

Naruto is not able to see Sasuke for what seems like ages after that. Not until he is finally given the honor of informing his friend that, after much deliberation, Sasuke has been pardoned of all his crimes and is now a free citizen of Konohagakure. Not a shinobi on the Hokage’s payroll, of course, but the possibility is open if he is willing to wade through a sea of red tape and endure highly invasive interrogations to test his loyalty.

But Sasuke says nothing about wanting to don the Leaf _hitai-ate_ again, and Naruto, in a display of surprising restraint, does not press him.

Later, Naruto wonders if he should have.

After that, Naruto sees Sasuke much more often, which is how he is able to recognize a growing restlessness in his friend. Naruto can see that, even after a couple of months, Sasuke still does not feel at home in Konoha. He creeps like a ghost around the sepulchral Uchiha compound, drifts through the busy streets like a stranger, and spends hours entertaining heavy thoughts on his _engawa_. Naruto isn’t surprised, but he is still worried. So Naruto confronts Sasuke about it one day, interrupting one of Sasuke’s brooding sessions by thunking down next to him on the stained planks.

That’s when Sasuke tells Naruto about his plan to leave.

Always true to his gut reaction, Naruto puts up a fight, ranting and raving and all but saying what he really means. The first argument doesn’t end so much as pause so they both can eat and sleep.

It is continued on at least three more occasions, until one night, as Naruto lies sleeplessly in bed, he is touched by the strange sense of introspection that makes things seem so much different than they do in the daylight. In this state of mind, Naruto finds he can identify his terror at the idea of Sasuke’s imminent departure and compartmentalize it. Move it out of the way and look at the situation under the cool light of the moon—the way Sasuke would see it—instead of the burning rays of the sun. And at last, seeing Sasuke’s resolve unwarped by his own fears, Naruto . . . understands. He does. It hurts Naruto in ways he doesn’t fully comprehend, but he understands that his friend is suffocating in Konoha, and Naruto knows what he needs. So he unclenches his fist.

>>> 

Naruto doesn’t know how Rock Lee found out about Sasuke’s intention to leave. They had planned on Sasuke slipping off without fanfare, but perhaps they should have anticipated the fact that secrets do not exist in a village inhabited by ninjas. That in mind, Naruto doesn’t know how many people besides Lee know, but it’s obvious that Konoha’s Beautiful Green Beast has some idea of what is going on. Though, Naruto has a feeling that his impression of the proceedings might be a bit peculiar.

As they cross paths in the Administration building one morning, Lee stops Naruto with a firm hand on his shoulder. He looks Naruto hard in the eyes, and says,

“’Naruto! I have something to say to you! ‘If you love something, set it free. If h—it! If _it_ comes back, it’s yours forever. But if it doesn’t, it was never yours to begin with.’ Those are the wise words that my sensei told me once. Not that I told you that for any particular reason! It was simply . . . a proverb for the day! From Gai-sensei! And I thought I would share it with you . . . because you’re my friend! And not because of any reasons in your personal life!” An awkward shoulder pat and determined thumbs up.

“See you around, Naruto!” And, just like that, Lee is gone.

Naruto spends his lunch break drafting plans to break into Grandma Tsunade’s liquor cabinet.

>>> 

Hinata is surprised when Naruto asks her out “for ramen or something, like, as a date. I’ll pay and everything.” Not entirely because Uzumaki Naruto, the boy she has been in love with since her academy years, has just asked her out on a date in _reality_ —not an elaborate genjutsu fantasy that in the seconds between sleep and wakefulness seems more real to her than the world she actually lives in. She is surprised about that, yes, but ever since they joined hands on the battlefield there has always been a sense of inevitability about this moment, like they both instinctively knew it was something they were supposed to do. No, what surprises her the most is that, this time, it’s different.

Not that the Naruto from the Infinite Tsukuyomi— _her_ Naruto—was not just as awkward and unromantic. He’d had the same posture, leaned back on his heels and scratched his nose the same way. She remembered it vividly.

But, that time, he’d said, “We can go anywhere you want. Doesn’t have to be ramen. I mean, unless that’s what you want!”

She and the other Naruto had still ended up having ramen, Hinata remembers. And really, Hinata doesn’t mind not being given a choice. It’s not a big difference.

But it _is_ a difference.

Without realizing it, it seems she had forgotten that the life she remembered from the Infinite Tsukuyomi was a world created from her greatest desires. The Naruto standing before her in reality is strikingly similar to her illusory one—and for that she cannot help but be a bit proud—but he is still not the same.

The same or not, though, it really makes no difference. This is the Naruto she fell in love with first. She has chosen to love him, and the fact that he’s not exactly like her fantasy doesn’t make her love him any less. And even if he is a bit distant now—busy trying to rebuild the village, harried over trying to protect and strengthen the ties forged between countries during the war, and preoccupied with Sasuke—Hinata knows she can become his anchor and his support in reality just as much as she was in her dream world. By asking her out, he has opened the door for her, given her the opportunity to make him into the man she married. Maybe even a better one—less jaded by unwieldy politics, less of an absentee father for their children.

If she says yes, she can have the life she dreamed about under the Infinite Tsukuyomi. She can marry Naruto, have children she already loves, and live in honor as the wife of the Hokage. In her mind she can see the beautiful faces of Boruto and Himawari and _oh_ she misses them. If Hinata says yes to Naruto, she can have all that, she _knows_ it.

But she’ll also have the months spent alone while he’s away, sleeping in a cold bed and raising two children almost entirely on her own. She’ll have to give up all her aspirations as a kunoichi in order to be a full-time mother. She’ll have the stilted dates on which Naruto talks ceaselessly of Sasuke, and she’ll have the nights in which Naruto lies in bed and stares up at his prosthetic right hand for hours and hours with a wrinkle between his brows that she can’t kiss away.

Hinata wouldn’t mind living with all those things. She _did_ live with all those things, and it didn’t bother her. She knows that’s just what comes with loving someone, and she knows what to expect. Of course, there will be differences, but not many. Being with Naruto, walking through this open door, is safe. And Hinata likes safe; she likes being with Naruto.

But she’s already lived her years with Naruto. She knows where that road will lead her; she’s experienced it. Those memories will never leave her; they are more real and vivid than any dream she’s ever had. Now, though, she has the opportunity to take the unknown road. Perhaps to see what had been going through Naruto’s head on those nights when his thoughts made him wistful—see if any truth existed within her suspicions. She thinks of the way Kiba from the genjutsu lounged around the village with only himself and Akamaru to be responsible for, laughing and talking it up to girls, able to throw all of himself into missions and make life-threatening risks for the good of his village and his own nindō. Hinata remembers seeing the unbridled way he lived and thinks to herself, “ _What if?_ ” What would it be like to spend more time training her Gentle Fist Art and Byakugan and less time cleaning, cooking, watching children, and being protected? She spent all of her life doing everything she could to become strong, and it was Naruto that helped her reach that goal. Why force Naruto to be the one to take all of that away?

She had enjoyed loving Naruto and being loved by him. She enjoyed her time with her children; loved them more than life. She was genuinely happy. But maybe this is her chance to give herself something else, and to let Naruto have something else, too. It may not be better than the world inside the Infinite Tsukuyomi, but it will be real, and it will be the road not taken.

“Uh, Hinata? You there?”

She blinks and Naruto’s hand comes into focus, waving back and forth in front of her eyes.

“You okay? You spaced out there for a minute.”

“Um, sorry,” she says, and the steadiness of her own voice surprises her. She meets his eyes, and he straightens up, easing his weight back onto his heels.

“So . . .?”

“No, thank you,” she mumbles well below audible frequency, then clears her throat. Says more loudly, “I—I mean, I appreciate you asking, Naruto. But I think, um, I’m not really interested in going on any—in dating? Right now. Um, thank you, though.”

Hinata forces a reassuring smile and bows slightly. Naruto just blinks at her for a second, shocked.

“Uh, okay,” he finally says.

_No going back now_ , Hinata thinks, heart racing. This is it; this is how she’ll know for sure. Their love had been real, she knows it, but now she will be able to see if, in this moment, they had both just been going with the grain—doing what felt like the right thing to do—or if it was truly something that Naruto felt was worth seeking out. If he continues to pursue her, Hinata decides that she will gladly take his hand. But, if he doesn’t . . . well, then she’ll know.

In the meantime, Hinata breathes deeply and smiles as she and a perplexed Naruto part ways. She feels, suddenly, like a bird watching the cage door swing open. The air outside smells sweet.

>>> 

Naruto’s determination and stubbornness unexpectedly land him as the guardian of a handful of children, orphans of war who had no distant relatives willing to adopt them and had not yet been fitted to a foster family. Many of the children deprived of both parents had quickly been found a caring home, partly due to Naruto’s efforts to break Konoha’s pattern of indifference toward waifs. Those who remain, however, are left in need of a place to live while the team Naruto and Kakashi created spreads the news and tries to rope in good foster families.

His mind set, Naruto volunteers his own one-bedroom apartment to house the five children. None of them are older than thirteen and the youngest still spends most of her time in a crib, so they all prove to be a loud, messy, and smelly handful.

Thankfully, Naruto has no shortage of friends willing to help him take care of the little devils. Sakura, particularly, proves herself a godsend. She teaches Naruto how to take care of a child to the best of her knowledge, and, when that knowledge fails, Sakura calls upon her mother and a network of more experienced female friends for advice. Eventually, after a crash-course in temporary parenting, Naruto may not be the best guardian in the world, but at least he won’t accidentally kill the children out of ignorance.

If anything is certain, Naruto is now sure that he never wants to have children of his own.

While he spends his daylight hours pushing papers at the Admin building or making hurried trips to the Daimyo’s court to administer a helping of Talk no Jutsu, the children are watched by friends willing to don the weighty mantle of Babysitter. Nights, though, remain Naruto’s responsibility entirely. With a crying infant, bathroom trips that require supervision, nightmares, and high-strung brats that simply refuse to stay in bed, Naruto has been getting two hours of sleep a night or less.  Even with his massive stores of chakra keeping him more or less alert and energetic, the following weeks are characterized by a slow accumulation of stress and exhaustion.

Visiting the Uchiha household a week before his friend’s imminent departure, Naruto is not surprised when Sasuke takes one look at him and nearly throws his whole head into a dramatic eye-roll.

Naruto _is_ surprised when, later, Sasuke returns from the back room of his home and drops the title deed to the entire Uchiha estate on the table in front of Naruto.

Sitting down gracefully on the other side of the _kotatsu_ , Sasuke declares in a bored tone that he will be handing over ownership of the grounds of the estate to Naruto in order to be renovated into an orphanage.

“Sasuke!” Naruto splutters, dumbstruck. “But—you—are you sure you—“

Sasuke silences Naruto with a sharp glance. In the shared eye contact, Naruto reads enough that he drops the subject. With gritted teeth, he nods firmly. Then, by degrees, the magnitude of what Sasuke is doing settles into Naruto’s frazzled brain. A massive grin grows on Naruto’s face until he nearly vibrates with excitement.

This. This is better than he could have ever hoped. This solves almost all of his problems. The Uchiha estate is massive and spacious, plenty of room for a whole herd of kids to live and play. He’ll hire a battalion of the nicest and most patient people he can find to run the place. It’ll be perfect! Naruto can hardly believe it.

A giddy laugh tumbles out of him, and Naruto his so furiously happy that he could cry. He could just reach across the table and kiss Sasuke right on the mouth, except that’s not the kind of thing that brothers do. That would be gross.

Instead, he meets Sasuke’s eyes, ignores the way his friend is pretending like this isn’t a big deal, and says, “Thank you, Sasuke.”

The Uchiha just looks away and shrugs.

“It’s not that big a deal. The place’ll turn into a shithole again while I’m gone if no one does anything with it.”

Sasuke doesn’t have to say that the place doesn’t feel like home anymore. It’s a graveyard, dusty and quiet and useless without the rest of the Uchiha clan. It seems logical to hand it over to a humanitarian cause if all it would do was fall into disrepair. But, to Sasuke, giving up all of the Uchiha estate means more than that. Because, even if he didn’t want all of it, he could have kept some of it for his own family. Having an old and luxurious estate is a matter of honor among the old clans. Surrendering that is like surrendering his birthright.

Even as the last Uchiha, hope of reviving the family name still exists. If Sasuke marries well and produces heirs, the glimmering hope of the Uchiha’s return to glory remains alive. But selling the estate is a statement that, even if he does not plan to entirely shirk his duties as head of the Uchiha clan and sole survivor responsible for redeeming the line, he is setting aside the old majesty of the lineage. To become a vagabond, it seems.

Naruto cannot claim to fully understand the politics of the old clans, but even he knows what a monumental decision Sasuke is making. He knows he can’t change Sasuke’s mind, though. To question the Uchiha’s surety would be an insult. Sasuke would not have handed the deed to Naruto if he wasn’t absolutely positive, and Naruto respects that. Sasuke is doing this for himself, to find his own way. But, clutching in his hands the hope for all the wild little orphans of Konoha, Naruto wonders if Sasuke realizes he is changing Konoha from the roots up, and he didn’t have to become a personification of darkness in order to do it.

>>> 

In the time between the conclusion of the Fourth Shinobi World War and Sasuke’s departure from Konoha, fall gives way into winter. The cold has finally settled in and chilled the earth by the time Sasuke decides it’s time to leave. He steps through the tall gates of Konoha flanked by Kakashi and Sakura—who remains gamely resilient to the cold in her sleeveless vest. Sasuke hasn’t seen Naruto all day, and he thinks he knows why. Goodbyes are uncomfortable, sticky things.

>>> 

Sakura can’t believe how easy it is to fall back into old habits. It is her greatest fault, she realizes: she never takes one step forward and two steps back. No, she trudges fifty grueling steps forward and then springs effortlessly back to step one as if she were attached to a bungee cord.

Sakura loves Sasuke, but she isn’t in love with him anymore. She isn’t. She hated him for a long time, and now she doesn’t. He’s her friend and teammate. She is over her childhood crush now, or that’s what she’d thought. Apparently, despite everything, some part of her must still hold out a thread of hope.

Over the past couple of months, Sasuke just seemed so mild, she thinks to herself. He has grown up, begun treating her with noticeably more gentleness and respect, _acknowledging_ her like she’s always wanted him to. And she can’t help but think, “ _I just have to try. Just one more time._ ”

So Sakura asks Sasuke to take her with him, and when he brushes her off she’s almost . . . relieved.

When Sasuke pokes her forehead, her heart beats a frantic tattoo, but she forces herself to recognize the affectionate gesture as something shared between siblings and nothing more. She knows better. What she doesn’t know is the motion’s personal relevance to Sasuke, can’t recognize the parallels he’s drawing between his brother and himself. And he doesn’t want her to know, because that would be giving up the game.

Maybe next time, Itachi would always say, but next time never came. In all of Itachi’s life, Sasuke never caught up to his brother. It was only after his death and in his last moments of borrowed existence that Itachi allowed Sasuke to reach him, a pittance. Sasuke knows his brother loved him, but he showed it by stringing Sasuke along, giving him something to strive toward to make him strong.

Sasuke cares about Sakura. Not the way she wants him to, and he wouldn’t dare call it love in any form. But he’s not blind. He knows how much she has always cared about him and how much she has suffered for him, even if her affection was tainted by some absurd fantasy of being in love with him most of the time. He remembers before he left Konoha for the first time, how annoying and weak she was. But she changed.  In the time Sasuke was away, Sakura became one of the strongest Kunoichi in the five nations. And Sasuke is proud of her because—and he doesn’t think he’s presumptuous in believing so—he knows it was, at least in part, because of him. It was due to her determination to chase after him that she pushed herself so far. Just like Sasuke’s pursuit of Itachi made him stronger, Sakura’s pursuit of Sasuke made her stronger.

Sasuke recognizes this, recognizes the brotherly need in himself to make her stronger, even if it means stringing her along with false hopes. And that’s reason enough for him to share something sacred with her—something that used to belong exclusively to him and Itachi. After all, as long as she still takes the bait, she’s not strong enough.

Self-respect is a form of strength, too.

>>> 

For perhaps the first time in his life, Sasuke accepts that he was wrong with grace. He supposes he should just give up trying to anticipate what Naruto will or will not do.

He certainly did not expect Naruto to hang on to his old _hitai-ate_ for all these years. Admittedly, Sasuke should have. As if that idiot would ever give up on anything once he puts his mind to it. Someday, Sasuke knows he will put the Leaf headband back on, if only for a few minutes, for no other reason than to get Naruto to stop hounding him about it. It is an inevitability.

In the meantime:

“I’ll hold onto this,” Sasuke says, “until we can finally really settle things between us.”

And they are both aware that Sasuke refers to a lot more than just the issue of his return to Konoha as a shinobi. Neither of them flinch away, though, even if they’re not ready to address it. Now isn’t the time.

Right now, they both have jobs to do; both are working toward a harmonious goal for the first time. The world lies fresh again, malleable, and they can’t wait a second to start changing it. Their hopes and dreams are bigger than themselves. They are the hopes and dreams of thousands of people ready for things to change. In the vicious present, the resonance of their bond pushes them to work hard, to not fail, and, for a time, to be apart. After all, distance never managed to break their bond before.

And when the time finally comes to “settle things,” maybe they’ll be ready to accept the truth for what it is.

>>> 

Sakura does better once Sasuke is gone. She throws herself into her work, but her work never defeats her. Her strength of body and character quickly earn her the same level of respect as Tsunade among shinobi of all ages and ranks.

It is amazing to watch. And watch, people do.

>>> 

“ _Oh, shit,_ ” Kakashi thinks when he catches himself watching the sway of his former student’s hips as she walks with Shizune out of the Hokage’s office. No, no, no, _wrong_! He may read porn in public, but he is not _that_ kind of person. He’s just . . . been too busy lately. That’s it. Not thinking straight.

“ _Oh,_ fuck _no,_ ” Sakura thinks when she finds her attention caught by the sinuous roll of her former sensei’s shoulders as he wearily shrugs out of his Hokage _haori_ to reveal a fitted black turtleneck. She does not think fondly about how well they work together in battle and diplomatic situations, and it definitely doesn’t occur to her that he has become one of her closest friends since the war. That would be silly. Hormones are a terrible thing.

“ _I’m going to hell,_ ” they both think three weeks later as Sakura throws Kakashi down across the mattress, splintering the bedframe with a resounding crack.

>>> 

“When you become Hokage, let’s drink together from a sake cup,” Gaara of the Sand had said in the heat of battle, his faith in the Allied Shinobi Forces’ victory restored because of Naruto’s powerful display. He’d had his hopes that the boy who’d broken him down and rebuilt him all those years ago would reach his goal of becoming a Kage, but now Gaara was sure. Naruto had what it took.

Gaara had never spoken to anyone of his . . . dreams, he supposes they were. For the most part, Gaara is a realist. He doesn’t subscribe to the fanciful hopes and far-fetched aspirations of people who will inevitably live predestined lives. He lives in the present, not caring to daydream or waste time thinking of false realities. But he does make plans. It’s part of his job as Kazekage: to make arrangements for every eventuality, no matter how far-fetched. So, not long after seeing Naruto in the wake of his resurrection from the dead, Gaara began to entertain— He began to make plans.

Gaara started to imagine what would happen if Naruto took the seat of Hokage. More importantly, he started to envision how the two of them would further strengthen the alliance between the Lands of Fire and Wind. Traditionally, a political union of that nature would involve intermarriage, usually among the offspring of the Kages or Daimyos; but Gaara immediately pushed that prospect aside. The Daimyo of the Land of Wind had no unmarried children and no grandchildren smart enough to trust with an alliance, and Gaara had no intention of procreating. No, Gaara and Naruto would bind themselves. That way, the ties forged between villages would be stronger and endure until both of their deaths. Perhaps beyond. Surely Naruto would see the political advantage.

If Gaara spent perhaps a bit too much time mulling over the possibility, no one would ever know.

The Kazekage had not intended at first to make the political proposition on the battlefield, of course, but the time had been right. The fight had reached a lull, and Naruto was nearby, about to leap into another lethal tangle. The psychosocial and diplomatic skills that Gaara had been so painstakingly cultivating since he was thirteen told him Naruto would need assurance, even if he seemed confident. That was why Gaara chose to make his request. Two birds with one stone. And, perhaps, Gaara needed the assurance as well.

Thinking about it now, Gaara is struck by how blind he was to his own feelings. With the memories of his life within the Infinite Tsukuyomi, even with the gates of his mind back in place, Gaara can now see clearly that what led him to make such a proposal to Naruto was quite a bit more personal than a mere alliance between their two countries.

He wishes he had never seen it. It twists something in his chest into knots.

Naruto accepted the request amicably, but Gaara knows he didn’t interpret the proposal the way the Kazekage meant it. What Gaara had with him in the Infinite Tsukuyomi was an illusion. Long and lifelike, but an illusion nonetheless.

Leaning against the cool rail circling the roof of Hokage Tower, Gaara runs his left thumb idly over the unblemished skin of his right palm. It’s strange not having anything there. It doesn’t feel right, like wearing his boots on the wrong feet.

He thinks of Naruto’s right palm—gone. And before that, marked with a light circle—a symbol of Naruto’s and Sasuke’s complementary natures. It’s a bitter pill to swallow. And it’s frustrating for Gaara to see himself so deeply affected by emotions he thought had been burned out of him long ago by greater hurts. Gaara never dreamed he could ever love someone, not even his family. But Naruto had taught him how. Now Naruto is teaching him the painful side of that.

Being in Konoha is difficult, but Gaara will heal. Naruto is important to him; he changed Gaara’s life from the ground up. But Gaara has endured more grievous wounds than unrequited feelings, so he will recover in time. After all, it isn’t as if Naruto does not acknowledge their bond. Gaara spent his past two days in the Land of Fire enduring Naruto’s friendly shoulder pats and undying enthusiasm for showing him all the sights. In the quieter hours, Naruto even confessed in his own awkward way how much he values the Kazekage’s friendship.

That time, to Gaara, transcends value. With enough time, Gaara knows he will be able to convince himself it’s enough.

 A movement in the deserted streets drags Gaara from his introspection. It’s not a chuunin patrol on night shift and it’s not ANBU. The moon is bright enough tonight that it catches the green of a jumpsuit and casts a shifting halo of silver onto a head of straight black hair.

It’s an odd hour for a run, but Rock Lee is an odd person.

Gaara’s eyes follow the jounin as he makes his way down the mostly empty main street at an expertly measured pace. Toward the training grounds, perhaps. Head tilted minutely to the side, Gaara watches Lee until he is out of sight.

The Kazekage is not impulsive; and he is, by nature, too cautious to be tremendously inquisitive. Even so, he does not stop himself from straightening the gourd on his back and vaulting over the railing of Hokage Tower.

>>> 

Gaara is right in his guess that Lee’s destination is the training grounds. When Gaara catches up, Lee pauses his brutal assault on one of the wooden practice dummies for half a second to flash him a look of surprised delight. His yelled greeting seems overly loud in the quiet morning. He does not seem offended when Gaara remains quiet.

“Gai always says that when you can’t sleep, you ought to do something productive!” Lee explains without being asked. Neither of them say that it’s a wonder anyone in the world gets any sleep after Madara’s genjutsu.

After nearly half an hour of Lee turning practice dummy after practice dummy into splinters, the Leaf jounin finally stops and turns to the silently observing Kazekage.

“Gaara! I would be honored if you would spar with me!”

It strikes Gaara that Lee is either severely damaged from an accumulation of cranial injuries over the years, or he is the bravest and most emotionally resilient person Gaara has ever met. On principle, Gaara should refuse Lee’s absurd request. Not only would such a thing inevitably dredge up dark memories for the both of them—memories of the chuunin exam and, for Gaara, the burning need to kill Lee that he has not fully gotten around to feeling contrition for—but, furthermore, Gaara cannot guarantee that Lee will emerge free of serious injury. People do not _spar_ with Gaara of the Sand. He has never fought anyone without killing intent. Lee doesn’t know what he was asking.

Gaara opens his mouth to refuse.

>>> 

Smears of magenta and lavender paint the eastern horizon by the time Gaara lets the gourd fall to the ground. He leans over to let his hands rest heavily on his knees. The sound of laborious breaths seems loud in the open space. Gaara’s heart jackhammers, trying painfully to ease back into a more reasonable rhythm. He spits out a glob of blood and gingerly tongues the cut in his mouth, gouged from the inside of his cheek when a fist broke through the Sand Armor to smash against his face. A quick inspection reassures Gaara that none of his teeth are loose. Lee pulled his punches. Gaara’s fingers absently reach back to prod the sandal-shaped bruise blooming across his back.

Eight meters away, Rock Lee lies spread-eagle on the grass, gasping in a way that suggests rib trauma. The hair around his left temple is matted with blood and the wrappings around his hands are stained with pink splotches. His green jumpsuit is abraded to a threadbare tatter, and every inch of visible skin is raw from the sand. His mouth hangs open with the agonizing effort of breathing, but his lips stretch wide in a blinding smile.

For the first time in a long time, Gaara feels like mirroring the smile. He is exhausted and aching all over, but it’s _good_. He feels amazing. The tension of collaring all of his dangerous impulses for far too long has disappeared, washed away by the calming tide of sand flowing freely from the gourd for the first time since the final battle of the war. Gaara had relished the sharp physical pain of Lee’s fists winding around the Sand Barrier to shatter his armor. Against all logic both moral and diplomatic, he had let Lee—Lee who has a talent for opening gates—throw wide the feeble bars holding back his pent-up violence, and Lee had stood his ground against what spilled through them. Of course, he will need to be attended by a medic-nin soon, but he has survived Gaara’s power and uncontrolled bloodlust unscathed and even seems to take some morbid delight in it. Despite the way Gaara nearly killed him during the Chuunin Exams, Lee hurled himself into this morning’s fight with nothing but excitement on his face.

Gaara watches as Lee swipes sweat from beneath his bangs with a trembling hand, smile still incandescent.

_Exquisite_.

Once both Lee and Gaara’s breaths have evened out, the Kazekage moves closer and stiffly lowers himself to the grass near Lee’s outstretched right arm. Lee says nothing, mouth still open and smiling but eyes closed. In pain but stupidly trusting.

“I’ll be here for another week and a half.” Gaara says. “How long will it take you to be back in fighting condition?”

>>> 

The first time Naruto gets news of Sasuke, the Uchiha has been gone nearly six months. Naruto is at the Daimyo’s Palace, kowtowing to old nobles (or being taught to do so with limited success by a miserable Shikamaru) in an attempt to further solidify his inevitable ascension to the position of Nanadaime Hokage. Ingratiating himself to pretentious old people is not Naruto’s style, but he has begun to cope with the cruel and unusual form of torture.

In truth, he succeeds in little more than getting on the nobles’ nerves. In the eyes of the Daimyo’s wife and mother, however, Naruto has become quite popular. Perhaps they are endeared by his frankness and vigor, or maybe they take a shine to him because of his youth and charm. Either way, the two aging women have begun an almost daily ritual of inviting Naruto for tea and gossip. Naruto endures the treatment for the benefit of his country like any good shinobi would.

Shikamaru told him not to ever let a word of gossip slip by him, no matter how troublesome. “Listening to other people talk is the best way to orient yourself in an unfamiliar situation,” he had said, like he was reciting something someone else had told him a painful multitude of times. So, Naruto listens and tries to no avail to garner any information of even the slightest importance from the drama of the court ladies.

That is, until today.

“Wait, what?” Naruto demands, nearly spilling his tea.

“I said he’s a monk now.” The old woman answered, eyes gleaming.

“I don’t think so, Mother.” The Daimyo’s wife interjects. “They just said Uchiha Sasuke was _living_ with monks. They didn’t say he was a monk himself. Surely he wouldn’t become a monk when it’s his duty to restore the Uchiha line!” She scoffs.

“Well, _I_ heard he was a monk!” The old woman says with a frown. “I’m sure Naruto knows. He’s the boy’s friend.”

Both women turn their gazes across the table to a stunned-looking Naruto.

“No, I don’t, actually.” Naruto eventually grates out and quickly brings the cup to his mouth. By the time he sets it down, his expression has cycled through from bitterness to bafflement. “A monk?”

“Oh, yes!” the Daimyo’s mother says, clearly delighted at Naruto’s ignorance. “Apparently, he became involved with a small group of them in the South. But they were living in some muddy cave or hovel or somesuch. Harassed by bandits all the time. Horrible conditions. So the—well, have you heard of the Uchiha’s secret compound? They say it’s impossible to find by one unguided by the Sharingan. Only the Uchiha have ever stepped foot on those grounds. Well, until now! I hear the young Uchiha took the monks there. They purified the place and are now making it into a monastery!”

The Daimyo’s mother leans back with an air of finality, and the others obediently sip their tea to let her words settle. Before either of them can remark, however, she sighs and speaks up again.

“But what a waste for the Uchiha boy to deprive himself of heirs!”

“Why?” The younger woman argues. “Uchihas and their Dōjutsu have been at the root of almost all the Land of Fire’s greatest conflicts. If the last Uchiha really has taken a vow of celibacy, then good riddance, I say! The world will be more peaceful without such a powerful and volatile people.”

The Daimyo’s mother presses her wrinkled lips together.

“Perhaps,” she says. “But don’t you think it’s a shame for the world to lose the Sharingan? And how sad for such a powerful and ancient family fall extinct! They may have been dangerous, but they were also critical to the defense of the Land of Fire not so long ago. It is hard to imagine a world without the Uchiha.”

“Well, the culture may be lost, but the extinction of the Sharingan won’t wound the Land of Fire too greatly. The wielders of the Byakugan are still numerous and their loyalty is unshakeable. Unlike the Uchiha, whose ancient rivalry with the Senju made them unpredictable.”

“Oh! Speaking of the Byakugan! Did you hear about that Hyuuga girl who refused her arranged marriage? She ran off with an Inuzuka boy _and_ an Aburame boy!”

“What? No!”

Naruto, seeing that all talk of Sasuke has run its course, tunes out the rest of the old ladies’ conversation. He instead sips at his tea and allows himself to wonder what Sasuke is doing. Has he really become a monk? “ _Inner peace_ ” he remembers Sasuke saying once during the few short weeks between his return and his departure, a snippet of a forgotten conversation. Naruto wonders if Sasuke found it.

The urge to set down his teacup and dash out the doors to find Sasuke hits him like a tidal wave, but Naruto has a lot of practice pushing that particular urge down. He takes another sip of tea and tries to find his own inner peace.

>>> 

Keeping a scandalous relationship secret in a city full of ninjas is nigh impossible, even for someone like Hatake Kakashi. One cannot at any moment presume to be completely alone, especially if one is the Hokage.

Thankfully, the first to catch on is Kakashi’s guard detail, a cycling unit of five elite ANBU agents. Perhaps more than anyone in the village, their discretion is reliable and their loyalty to their Hokage—whether or not they agree with the choices he makes in his private life—remains unparalleled. Nothing could be more obvious than the need to keep the Hokage’s intimate relationship with a former student who is not quite free of the mire of adolescence away from the public eye.

Much to the agents’ relief, despite the sordid nature of the Hokage’s ill-advised romance, Kakashi and Sakura are exceptionally discreet and clear-headed on their own. Unlike with some liaisons the two senior members of the ANBU squad have helped contain in the past, passion does not make Sakura or Kakashi stupid or reckless. Indeed, it seems that, although the intimacy was decidedly unexpected from both sides, the aftermath was so well-contained that Kakashi’s guard detail did not sense that anything had changed until over a week after the initial encounter.

Since then, such encounters have been sparse and wisely timed. Even so, the ANBU squad has its hands full keeping anything involving the Hokage a secret.

All individuals involved look forward to when Naruto reaches the age of twenty and is thus able to take the mantle of Hokage from Kakashi’s shoulders, leaving the Copy Nin to run away to some shadowy corner of the Land of Fire where his sex life is no longer under any scrutiny. Then, without so many judgmental eyes squinting over his every move, Kakashi can officially bid farewell to his old life as a bachelor and embrace a possible future as a punching bag for the most powerful kunoichi in the five great nations.

>>> 

When Tsunade presents Naruto with two prosthetic arms, it’s for his birthday. She considers not giving him the arm meant for Sasuke, knowing how it will weigh on him when she gives him the choice—to either respect Sasuke’s distance or to finally give in and go hunt the Uchiha down against his wishes. But Tsunade also has a feeling that Sasuke probably does not know what he wants as much as Naruto thinks he does, so she’s willing to be the agent of temptation.

Therefore, on the day Naruto turns twenty, a few hours after he and Kakashi pin down the date of his coming inauguration to the following spring, Tsunade performs the careful procedure to attach Naruto’s new right arm. Afterwards, she patiently helps him grow accustomed to the presence of a limb where none existed for over a year, whapping him over the head when his complaints of “this feels weird” and “I don’t know if you did this right, Granny” become too loud.

But, as Tsunade expects, when she hands over the arm made for Sasuke and suggests Naruto and Sakura take it to him, the boy immediately sobers. He fumbles with the thing for a moment, shifting on his feet, then carries the limb home. When she tries to question him, he dodges the subject, refusing to tell what he plans to do with it.

Ever since the trip to the Daimyo’s palace when Naruto discovered that Sasuke may or may not have become a monk, Naruto has heard only one other rumor regarding Sasuke.

“ _In the Land of Mist, yeah_ ,” the porter had said. “ _Helping along that government reform they been workin’ on, s’what people are sayin’. Don’t know how true it is, but my buddy said he saw this guy who looked like Uchiha Sasuke walking with the Mizukage in the courtyard. Wasn’t dressed like a monk—I know that rumor’s been going around—but he did have prayer beads wrapped around his hand. My friend said it had to be him ‘cause it didn’t look like he had a left arm, but then he said it was hard to tell from the clothes he was wearin’. May a been him; may not a been_.”

The rumor plants a magnet right in Naruto’s core. He has to hurl all of his self-control against its pull.

_“I just miss him._ ” Naruto wants to say out loud but doesn’t. Can’t, because it would somehow feel like the admission of a shameful secret.

It’s different than the way he missed Sasuke after he ran away to join Orochimaru because it’s not a Sasuke-shaped idea that Naruto’s missing. All those years ago, Naruto was searching for some hybrid of his old friend—the version of his friend that he _wanted_ Sasuke to be. Naruto didn’t miss the young man that Sasuke had become under the tutelage of his own hatred and desperation; he saw that version of Sasuke as a sort of false Sasuke. A shell like Gaara’s sand armor. Beneath it, he thought, lay the true boy waiting for Naruto to save him.

Naruto knows better now. Or rather, he accepts now what he’s known all along: that all the anger, coldness, and vengefulness are just as much a part of Sasuke as the parts of him Naruto treasures. Even in those times they faced-off against each other, when Naruto looked at Sasuke and wondered, “ _Who is this person?_ ” Sasuke was still completely himself. And even after their last fight, when Naruto felt as if they both understood each other completely for the first time, the darkness in Sasuke did not simply dissipate like so much smoke. Because it had all been there; all Sasuke, all along. In the weeks spent trading insubstantial barbs and substantial silences at the Uchiha compound, Naruto found himself reconciling all the parts of Sasuke he had somehow mentally disunited back into the one man who sat in front of him: Sasuke, the same but different. And, despite his initial misgivings, Naruto likes that Sasuke—the Sasuke that’s more stained, more worn in places; the real Sasuke that is both staggeringly similar and staggeringly dissimilar from what Naruto remembers.

That’s the Sasuke Naruto misses. And, somehow—perhaps because it’s the _real_ Sasuke, entirely unembellished by Naruto’s fantasies—the sensation of missing him seems even more visceral than it did before. Less like a dull twisting in his guts and obsession in his head; more like a hand goring his chest, gripping his heart and pulling his body away from Konoha.

Missing Sasuke this time is distracting in a way that it never used to be, and Naruto won’t let himself think about why. Too terrified of what he might discover down the dark corridors of his own mind—how what he finds might change things or ruin everything he’s worked so hard to establish between them.

The truth is, Naruto already has an idea what he’ll discover if he looks. So while his hands build Konoha back to glory, his mind builds walls around his heart to contain the things that scare him more than a demon fox.

That’s why, when Tsunade gives Naruto the arm and tells him to go find Sasuke, Naruto can’t even think about the suggestion for two full days and nights. Not because he doesn’t _want_ to think about it, but because he is unable to figure out how to open the gates of his mental fortifications just enough that only the matter in question spills out. With the way those walls creak under the strain, Naruto doesn’t know if he can hold back the flood.

>>> 

He can’t.

Tsunade finds a note signed by Naruto stuffed into her shoe asking her to clear his schedule indefinitely—“That’s not my job, you brat.”—and telling her that he will contact either her or Sakura if he can’t find any medic-nins in the area who are up to par. She rolls her eyes. Of course he won’t find any medic-nins aside from herself and Sakura able to carry out the procedure. She tells Sakura to expect Naruto to contact them soon, drowning in his own ineptitude.

Naruto has to stop just out of sight of Konoha and just _breathe_ deep enough that it hurts. On the road, on the way to Sasuke, a sense of _rightness_ settles over Naruto. With his feet moving and the blood pumping though his veins, he finally feels like he has a foothold with which to brace himself against the torrent crashing through his brain. He’s ready now. It’s time to sort through the rubble of his crumbled walls, deal with his doubts and fears while the ground flashes by beneath him. Heading east.

>>> 

Word of the Daimyo of the Land of Water’s assassination rolls out from Kirigakure to greet Naruto like a red carpet. Naruto’s logical mind reminds him he should be back in Konoha dealing with the fallout, but he doesn’t stop his march. He’s too close.

When he arrives in Kiri, he learns the whole story. The Daimyo was drowned in his private bath at home. The shallowness of the water basin made it obvious that foul play was afoot, but his personal guards detected no traces of an intruder and found no signs of genjutsu. Whoever committed the crime was an expert.

Because of the tensions between the Daimyo and the Mizukage over civil reformations, the general belief among the public is that Terumi Mei hired the assassin in order to free the country of the Daimyo’s stagnating influence and finally enact positive political change. Moreover, the alleged meeting between Terumi and Uchiha Sasuke mere days before the murder provided the perfect foundation for the popular rumor that the Mizukage hired Sasuke to perform the assassination.

Naruto wishes he could believe it isn’t true.

What surprises Naruto is that most of the people of Kirigakure seem pleased with the Daimyo’s assassination. He even sees hand-painted signs covering store-fronts congratulating Terumi Mei on “crushing destructive traditionalism.”

What doesn’t surprise Naruto is that Sasuke is no longer in Kirigakure. The Mizukage confirms the rumors that Sasuke was present in the city for several weeks, but she says he left four days before Naruto’s arrival. Naruto doesn’t ask anything else. He sleeps in the city and leaves the next morning, nothing to go on but Terumi’s comment of, “ _Perhaps if you could find the old Uchiha hideout?_ ”

>>> 

Naruto does not find the old Uchiha hideout.

He does, however, get news that the bloody brawl over leadership in Amegakure is ceased. The ramen stand chef in a small town in the Land of Rivers tells Naruto that no one knows for sure why the struggle for power stopped, but people say it has something to do with Uchiha Sasuke.

“But, really, I doubt it,” he says. “Ever since he was let off the hook for his crimes and skittered away from Konoha with his tail tucked between his legs, he’s become like a ghost story, you know? People always saying they spotted him here and there. All over the place people say they saw him, but no one ever says they spoke to him or anything. And he’s always supposedly in and out of there without so much as bending a blade of grass. Sounds like a crock of shit to me.

“Everybody’s scared of him since all the stories about him got out. He’s like a tiger on the loose. Nobody trusts him because they know he’s dangerous and ran with the worst sort, but then they don’t want to say anything or cause a fuss about him because that hero boy, Uzumaki Naruto, likes him so much.” The chef shrugs. “Me? I think he’s a bad apple. That Uchiha clan has always been full of crazy ones, and the Last Uchiha isn’t any different. Look at all he did. Uzumaki may trust him, and he might even have a good reason to, but I wouldn’t want him around my children, and that’s a fact.”

Naruto keeps shoveling ramen into his mouth so he doesn’t give away his identity by screaming at the man.

The chef is right about one thing, though. Naruto has followed rumors about Sasuke’s location across four countries and found no trace of his presence to support the stories. Anytime something unexplained occurs, people seem to insist that the wraithlike Last Uchiha is somehow responsible.

In light of this, the likelihood of Sasuke being in Amegakure is small. Especially when there are also rumors that Sasuke has been spotted in the Land of Waves and the southern gulf regions of the Land of Fire. Both are just as likely to be haunted by the Uchiha as anywhere else.

Still, Naruto sets his course for Amegakure. The fist clenched around his insides pulls him there, and he doesn’t know whether it’s some sort of intuition about Sasuke, or the fact that it’s the same unholy ground that drank the blood of Pervy Sage.

Setting his course due northwest, Naruto determines to send Granny Tsunade a letter when he gets there. He supposes three weeks without hearing from him might have caused some trouble in Hokage Tower. Not that Naruto has any intention of going home until he has found Sasuke, even if it has.

>>> 

Hatake Kakashi is not sure what to think when Gaara of the Sand contacts him personally, suggesting Konoha and Suna swap ambassadors to “ _facilitate a closer alliance between the Land of Fire and the Land of Wind. A gesture of good faith, so to speak._ ”

He is even more perplexed when the Kazekage rather unsubtly hints that Konohagakure’s chosen ambassador should be none other than Rock Lee, the single most _un_ suited shinobi to the art of diplomacy. If Kakashi were not certain how deeply Gaara’s loyalty to the peace between their two countries ran, he would wonder if the Kazekage were trying to start a war.

Oddly enough, the Hokage’s suggestion of another, more capable, shinobi serves only to make the tone of Gaara’s letters more abrupt. Eventually, after an extended, fruitless correspondence, the Kazekage drops all pretense and _insists_ Rock Lee be sent to Sunagakure. When asked, Gaara does not explain his reasoning.

“ _To strengthen the alliance,_ ” he merely says.

Kakashi pinches the bridge of his nose and relents.

>>> 

Amegakure is an alien and grotesque place. It isn’t raining when he arrives in the country, but a heavy shower settles in a few hours before he reaches the city, drenching him to the skin. The buildings are phenomenally tall, swallowing him up into their dank, steaming bowels. The smell of sewage and oil is pungent, and the tang of rust settles strangely on his tongue. Everyone carries an umbrella and stares furtively at Naruto as he slops through the city in drenched clothes. He seems to walk through the slums for what seems like hours before he is able to convince someone to tell him where to find the city’s administration building.

“What a dump,” Naruto mumbles when he finally finds the right place. It’s at the very top of the highest skyscraper in the village—the nicest part of town—but the whole place is still cold, uncomfortable, and mud-splattered.

He wanders through the labyrinth of halls in the complex with an air of purpose, pretending to know where he is going despite being hopelessly lost. At last, he finds an open door on the other side of which sits a woman busily scribbling away at her desk.

“Uh, hey,” he says, poking his head through the threshold. She looks up, startled. “Would you happen to know where I can find the guy in charge?”

She blinks at Naruto blankly then gives him a narrow-eyed once-over, taking in his mud-caked shoes, sopping clothes, hair plastered to his forehead, and Leaf _hitai-ate_. Her mouth curves in distaste.

“You have business with him?”

“Uh, yeah!” Naruto says, raking a dripping clump of hair away from his eyes. “On behalf of Konohagakure,” he adds because he knows by now what words will get him what he wants. It’s not _entirely_ a lie. The former Hokage did send him.

The woman seems to waver between caution and apathy for a moment before pointing lazily to her left.

“Down this corridor, take the first hall on the right, and it’ll be the third door on your left. You’ll know it when you see it.”

“Thanks!” Naruto says and flashes a smile. He turns, takes a step as if to leave, then whirls back around. “Oh! So, is it true that Uchiha Sasuke has been hanging around here?”

Confused, and perhaps a bit suspicious now, the woman shifts back in her seat. Eyes narrow. “You _did_ say you wanted to see the man in charge . . .”

Naruto fumbles with her meaning for a while, but finally he grasps it. When he does, he goes from leaning against the threshold of the woman’s office to sprinting down the corridor in half the time it takes to blink. His heart pounds against the tightening vice in his chest. No thought for safety or political repercussions, Naruto skids up to the door the woman indicated and slams it open before the guards can stop him. Eyes wide, Naruto barrels into the room head first to find it . . .

Empty.

The entire opposite wall is a massive window overlooking the steel forest that is Amegakure. From it floats in the only light in the space: the cheerless, overcast glow of a typical day in Rain Country. Just like the Hokage’s office in Konoha, a large desk sits centered in the room, its surface littered with papers, writing utensils, and half-empty teacups—signs of life—but the rest of the room looms barren and unused. There is not a single photograph, banner, rug, or souvenir. Nothing to hint to Naruto who drinks the tea in those cups.

A hand grips Naruto’s shoulder roughly. He can’t see it, but he can sense cold steel near the back of his neck.

“Excus—“

“Where? Where is—?” Naruto motions to the room, not knowing. Not ready to have his flimsy hopes shot down.

“Sir, if you don’t come with me right now, I’ll be forced—”

But Naruto knows the legacy Nagato and Konan left behind for him here. He jabs a thumb against his chest, making the guard flinch.

“I’m Uzumaki Naruto! Take me to whoever this office belongs to!”

The guard’s eyes widen as they search his face, looking from Naruto’s bright hair to the marks on his cheeks in a new light. His eyes narrow, searching for evidence of a _henge_.

Finally, the guard reels back. His whole demeanor changes, the bluster gusting out of him like air from a balloon.

“Uzumaki-sama! My apologies! Uchiha-sama is in a meeting across the hall right now, but I can see if he will allow an intrusion.”

At the sound of that name, the grip around Naruto’s heart becomes _crushing_. He forgets to breathe. Sasuke is here. Sasuke is _here_. _Sasuke_ is here.

After a moment, the man says worriedly, “Uh, Uzumaki-sama, are you alright?” and Naruto comes back to himself. He fills his starving lungs, blinks. Realizing his mouth is hanging open, he morphs it into a grin, blinding, wide enough to hurt his cheeks and completely unstoppable.

“I’m great!” finally tumbles out on a giddy laugh. “Where’s the meeting?”

>>> 

A gentle knock sounds on the door, interrupting the early stages of a vociferous argument between two of the most strident competitors for Amegakure’s leadership. A smooth voice pierces the din. Hush descends.

“Come in.”

A guard steps inside, bows, and snaps to attention.

“Uzumaki Naruto is here to see you, Uchiha-sama. He would like to come in, sir. It seems urgent.”

All eyes in the room spin to the young man sitting cross-legged at the head of the table. One would think Uchiha Sasuke to be utterly unmoved but for the rigid line cut by his spine. There is a pallid tension in his neatly folded hands.

“Take him to my office,” he says, and if his voice is not perfectly steady, no one takes any notice. “I will see to him in a moment. It’s about time this meeting adjourned.”

The guard nods and slips away on light feet.

>>> 

As soon as the door to the office creaks open, Naruto shoots up from Sasuke’s chair, heart in his throat.

There he is: Sasuke, finally. As familiar to Naruto as his own reflection from pale fingertips to slim, girlish wrists to inky spill of hair to the wartime readiness of his stance. And yet there’s something different about his shoulders. They’re not wider or narrower or weaker or stronger than they were before. They’re just different. Naruto has never really put much stock into all that talk of auras and whatnot, but he can feel it in his guts: Sasuke’s aura is different now. Calmer. What once felt like a gray, roiling tempest is now a calm sea. Still dangerous, but temporarily tranquil.

His hair is longer than when he left Konoha, just lengthy enough for most of it to fit into a short tail at the base of his skull. Naruto almost expected his head to be shaved—the typical style of monks. But Sasuke isn’t dressed like a monk. He’s wearing a slim, high-collared coat with a gray, sleeveless _haori_ draped over his shoulders. The loop of crimson prayer beads cascades down his chest, tassel swinging gently.

As soon as he steps through the door, Sasuke’s eyes give Naruto a perfunctory appraisal, expression inscrutable, before cutting to the guard.

“Leave us.”

When the man bows and departs, Sasuke closes the door behind him, unhurried, deliberate. Naruto bounces on his heels, barely sustaining his patience.

At last, Sasuke turns and looks back at Naruto. His eyes linger on the Leaf ninja, studying, then fall to the long canvas-wrapped parcel lying limply over the clutter on the table. Sasuke’s jaw twitches.

“You’ve ruined those papers, you idiot. They’re soaked.”

A grin blooms across Naruto’s face. He shrugs.

“Whatever,” Naruto says. “You can make more. This is important!” He dives into the task of peeling away the bundle’s wrapping.

“Those documents are important, too.” Sasuke tries to insist, but Naruto’s voice cuts over his.

“Granny sent me to find you so I could bring you this,” he explains. “She already gave me mine.” And with that Naruto raises his right arm, wiggling his fingers.

Sasuke glides closer, eyes on the disembodied arm as Naruto uncovers it fully. A crease forms between Sasuke’s brows.

“I don’t want it,” he says.

Naruto splutters. “But! Hey! Look, mine’s that white, too, but that’s why I keep it wrapped up. You get used to it after a while. It doesn’t even freak me out anymore! I mean, don’t be offended. You are pretty pale, but it’s not like she actually thought you were _that_ pale.”

“You dumbass, that’s not why I don’t want it.” Sasuke regards Naruto with dry irritation. “I don’t _need_ it. I’ve made my peace living without one. Having it now would just complicate things.”

“It’s not as hard to get used to as you’d think,” Naruto argues. “C’mon! Don’t you want to be able to use jutsu properly again? Or be able to carry stuff and open doors at the same time? Or be able to brush your teeth and comb you hair at the same time?—“

“Who does that?”

“—Or, I don’t know, hold an umbrella and eat dango at the same time? Come on, Sasuke, it won’t be so bad! After a while, it doesn’t even itch!”

Sasuke heaves a deep sigh and rolls his head toward the ceiling, but the stern line of his mouth wavers.

“Just get that thing off my desk for now, will you?”

Naruto juts his jaw. “Fine,” he says, and begins hastily rewrapping the arm to move it to the floor. “Asshole,” he adds. “After all that work Granny put into it.” As he works, a sneaky smile worms onto his face.

“So,” he intones. “Some office.”

“Yeah,” Sasuke replies flatly, but offers no more. When Naruto’s eyes cut over to shoot him a glare, Sasuke’s face is quietly smug.

“How’d you manage to get it?” Naruto presses. “Why Amegakure?”

Sasuke doesn’t answer for a moment, and Naruto takes the opportunity to relocate the arm to the corner of the room. As soon as he moves away, Sasuke stalks around the desk to reclaim his seat.

“It wasn’t my intention,” he says, sinking into his chair with a sigh. “But I came to help settle the power skirmish here before it turned this place into the next Kirigakure and ended up getting stuck with this. It’s only temporary. As soon as I get things straightened out I’m out of here.”

Naruto makes his way back to the desk and leans against it, peering at Sasuke over his shoulder.

“So, is that what you’re doing these days? Going around fixing governments?”

The way Naruto says “fixing” makes Sasuke look up sharply. They stare at each other for a moment.

“I didn’t kill the Water Country Daimyo,” Sasuke finally says. Naruto turns to look at him fully.

“Terumi Mei did ask me to, but I refused,” Sasuke continues, resting his chin on his knuckles, affecting boredom. “I wanted to. It would have solved everything, but . . . instead I tried to reason with her. We came to an agreement: I would seek an audience with the Daimyo, and if I couldn’t convince him to relent, then I’d wash my hands of the situation and she could do whatever she wanted. But, when I went to his court, the Daimyo wouldn’t change his mind, so I left. Looks like she hired Suigetsu to do job.”

“Oh,” Naruto says when Sasuke is finished. Even though he has no reason to, Naruto believes him. But it’s alien, this new pacifistic Sasuke. Naruto doesn’t know how to deal with him yet. How deeply do the changes go? “Why? Why didn’t you do it, I mean? Is it because you’re a monk?”

Sasuke’s eyebrows twitch. “I’m not a monk.”

Again, “Oh.” Naruto tries not to seem relieved. “Well then, is it true you’ve been hanging around with monks?” He waves in the general direction of Sasuke’s prayer beads.

“I traveled with them for a while,” Sasuke allows, seeming utterly unimpressed with the conversation. “I would have become one, but I wasn’t permitted. My chakra is too offensively adapted.”

Naruto leans his hip and arm against the desk, squints. “It’s too what?” Sasuke rolls his eyes.

“I’m too much of a ninja to be a monk. Is that dumbed down enough for you, _usuratonkachi_?”

“Hey! Watch it, bastard!”

“Watch what? Watch you make an ass of yourself?” Sasuke says with a smirk. Naruto growls and launches himself over the desk.

>>> 

The waitress at the ramen stand doesn’t ask about the blood and bruises when Naruto and Sasuke sit down to make their orders. Sasuke holds a reddening tissue to his face, and Naruto laughs at the nasal tone of his voice. The pull in Naruto’s chest has subsided.

“Y’know,” Naruto says as they wait for their food. “When I’m at the Fire Daimyo’s Court, I get roped into having tea with his wife and mom a lot. Hell if I know why. But they both talk like gossiping is an S-Rank mission. It was the Daimyo’s mom who told me that she heard you’d become a monk. She’ll be happy to know it wasn’t true.”

Sasuke casts a shadowed glance at him. Naruto can’t seem to look up from the table, suddenly deeply uncomfortable, but he forces himself to keep talking.

“She said it’d be a shame for the world to lose the Uchiha clan. Y’know, like, if you were, uh, celibate and all.” he continues. Sasuke scowls.

“It’d be a shame for the world to lose the Sharingan, she means.” Sasuke follows Naruto’s lead in staring hard at the table. The muscles in his jaw work. “Well, she’ll be disappointed.”

Just as the words arrange themselves to sense in Naruto’s mind, the waitress slides their steaming bowls in front of them. Naruto sets aside his astonishment long enough to take several scalding sips of broth and loudly compliment the chef. Sasuke begins to eat much more slowly and quietly.

Finally, without looking up, Naruto says, “You don’t plan to, uh . . . continue the line? I thought that’s what you always wanted?”

A tense silence trails after his words, spreading between them thickly. Sasuke deliberately sets down his chopsticks and wipes his mouth, and Naruto almost cannot make himself turn his head, but when he does, he finds black eyes boring into him. There is some emotion there, on Sasuke’s face, but Naruto can’t make sense of it.

“It used to be,” Sasuke says quietly, his gaze finally skittering away. His jaw is tight around the next words, as if they are difficult for his mouth to form. “But the world would be better off without the Sharingan or the Uchiha. Perpetuating a bloodline known for mental instability and volatile power isn’t the kind of legacy I want to be known for. Not anymore.”

He goes silent, but doesn’t seem finished, so Naruto watches as he picks up his chopsticks and begins picking at his noodles.

“Not that my—” Sasuke starts and trails off, cogs turning behind his eyes. Finally, he continues, voice so soft only Naruto can hear. “My mind hasn’t changed. I still think my plan was right.” He sighs, breath rustling the wisps of hair in his face. “I was never going to kill you. That wasn’t why I fought you; you know that. But your will was stronger than mine in the end, so I determined to do this your way. Even if this . . .” He motions over his shoulder, vaguely in the direction of the Administration Building. “It’s not what I wanted.” His black eyes are suddenly on Naruto again. “It grates on me. There are simpler and quicker ways to change things than this. It’s _stupid_. Your way is stupid, doesn’t make any sense. Of all the things I saw myself doing if I survived, this definitely isn’t one of them. The person I was then—I would rather have died than do what I’m doing now.

“But,” Sasuke says, and looks back down at his bowl. “It has to be this way, doesn’t it? And the monks helped. They showed me that your—that this way, I . . . I can see myself being happy, someday. And in all my plans I never could.”

Naruto just stares at Sasuke for a moment, mind spinning. He opens his mouth to say something, then closes it. Instead, he lifts his hand and clamps it around Sasuke’s bicep until their eyes meet. Internally, Sasuke wars with the reflex to look away. Forces himself to study the earnest blue in Naruto’s eyes, shining out over what used to be a chasm between them, now dwindled to only the scant inches between their stools.

“I want to—” Naruto starts to say. Stops. “I’m glad,” he manages and smiles, small and tentative. “I’m glad you can be happy. That’s what I—you know that’s all Sakura and me really wanted.”

Sasuke says nothing. Doesn’t know what to say. After a long moment, he nods and turns away, breaking the spell. They both return to their food, a bit dazed.

“So you and Sakura, huh?” Sasuke says after a while, and Naruto can hear the awkwardness in his voice. Naruto accidentally bites through the noodles he was shoving into his mouth, and they fall back into the bowl, splashing broth up into his face.

“What?!” He says as he wipes the moisture away with his sleeve.

“I hear rumors, too, you know,” Sasuke simply replies. “Can’t say I didn’t expect it. Still, it’s a shame she couldn’t have found someone less brain-dead.”

“Huh? Uh, _wait_! No! We’re not . . .” Naruto waves his unoccupied hand in the air frantically. Mentally, he kicks himself for being so quick to deny it. So much for keeping secrets. Trying to salvage the situation, he leans forward and lowers his voice. “I mean, we’re _not_ , but people kind of started assuming that, y’know? And it actually turned out to be really useful, I guess, having people think that. ‘Cause she’s—er, she doesn’t want people to know what she’s up to and I . . . well, I don’t have time for that kind of stuff, so.”

Sasuke side-eyes him, bemused. “You and Sakura . . . fake dating.”

A flush creeps up to Naruto’s ears. “Well, yeah, I guess. I mean, it’s not like we’re lying to anybody or anything. And we don’t do anything weird. Just hang out as usual and don’t correct people when they assume.”

 If Naruto didn’t know better, he would think Sasuke’s gaze had turned sadly pitying.

“And what could _Sakura_ be up to that she wouldn’t want people to know about?”

Naruto tenses. “Uh . . . well. She’s sort of, uh. Augh, dammit! You bastard, I’m not supposed to tell anyone! It would be really bad if it got out. Like, really _really_ bad. She’s with somebody, but I can’t say who.”

“Kakashi?”

Naruto almost overturns both their bowls trying to slap a hand over Sasuke’s mouth.

“Shhhhhhhhh!!!” Naruto swings his head in every direction, making sure they haven’t been overheard. “How the fuck did you know?!” he hisses. Sasuke merely pierces him with an irksome glare over the hand covering his lips. With a jolt, Naruto seems realize what he is doing and snatches his hand back.

“Because I know Sakura and I know that creep,” Sasuke eventually replies. Naruto juts his bottom lip.

“Well, _I_ didn’t expect it and I know them better than _you_!”

“But you’re an idiot.”

Naruto aims a punch at Sasuke’s shoulder, but it’s deflected easily. Huffing, Naruto returns to his food. He takes a bite of pork and continues with a full mouth.

“Well, it is really weird, but I actually think they’re doing okay! They both seem really happy.” He shovels more noodles into his mouth and doesn’t notice the searching look Sasuke sends him.

“And you?”

“Mm? What about me?”

“You’re okay with just pretending to be her boyfriend?” Sasuke’s tone remains even. Naruto tilts his head to the side.

“I guess? It’s kind of weird when she, like, makes me hold her hand and stuff, but other than that I don’t mind it. It keeps people from asking questions. And you wouldn’t believe how many girls keep flirting with me since the war! More than ever flirted with _you_ , I bet!” He grins, but the smugness soon twists into a wry shape. “But it got to be kind of a pain to deal with after a while, so having Sakura keep them away helps out a lot.”

Naruto makes a motion to take another bite when he freezes, blinks. “ _Oh_ , wait, you meant . . . .” He flushes. “No, no, I don’t really—I mean, I’m fine with it. I’m over that, I guess.” He twirls a chopstick. “I don’t know, It’d be kinda weird now, y’know? After everything, she’s more like a sister to me than anything, I think.” Silence follows in which it looks like Naruto might say more, but he doesn’t.

“Mm, whatever you say,” Sasuke eventually answers, and returns to his own food as well. He sounds doubtful, but Naruto senses that something about him has relaxed. Their silence is companionable.

>>> 

That night, Sasuke lets Naruto sleep on a pallet on the floor of his apartment. When he startles awake at precisely 3 A.M. like clockwork, he expects to walk into the living room to see Naruto sprawled across the floor, drooling in his sleep. Instead, Sasuke finds him propped against the wall beneath an open window. He sits loose-limbed and shirtless, using the polished metal of Sasuke’s old _hitai-ate_ to catch the moon’s effulgence and cast a bobbing square of light onto the ceiling. Naruto’s head is craned up to watch the dancing reflection, letting moonlight from the window on the adjacent wall spill down his exposed throat.

He doesn’t move when Sasuke walks in and freezes. That _hitai-ate_ had been under Sasuke’s mattress, discreetly snatched from the bedside table and shoved there as soon as Naruto entered the apartment.

“You were in my room.” No inflection. Moonlight coruscates off of Naruto’s teeth as he grins. “While I was sleeping.” Unheard of.

“I can be sneaky when I want,” Naruto says. He is looking at Sasuke now. Inexplicably, Sasuke can see the blue of his eyes even through the darkness.

“You reached under my mattress while I was sleeping.”

“Yeah, why would you keep it under there?”

“What were you doing in my room?”

Naruto shrugs. Light cascades over his naked shoulders.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Naruto says, as if that explains everything.

“I didn’t say you could come into my room.”

“Yeah? Well, you don’t tell me what to do, bastard.”

“This is _my_ apartment, _usuratonkachi_. Yes, I do.”

“Hmph, whatever!”

Sasuke rolls his eyes, but instead of moving toward the kitchen to make himself coffee or toward the bathroom to take a shower, his legs carry him over to the window and lower him to the floor beside Naruto. Naruto does not scoot over to give Sasuke more room, so they end up sitting with shoulders and knees nearly brushing.

Silence falls over them, comfortable like a semi-sleep. The beast that lurks in the stillness between them—the animate ebb and flow of want and need always charging the air when they are together—subsides, satisfied by the closeness. Naruto keeps turning the _hitai-ate_ over in his hands, eyes studying it both ardently and absently.

“When are you coming home?” Naruto says, softly softly, after what seems like an age.

Sasuke matches his tone. “Konoha isn’t—“

“Home anymore. I know,” Naruto interrupts. “But what is home? To you?”

Sasuke just looks at Naruto, watches his breaths gently collapse and expand his chest. Unconsciously, he matches them.

“Is it the monastery? It’s not this place.” Naruto continues. Lazily shrugs a shoulder to indicate the apartment and city surrounding them.

“When I’m done in Amegakure,” Sasuke says suddenly. “I’ll go to Konoha and let Tsunade attach the arm.”

The rhythm of Naruto’s breath breaks with his sudden but quiet inhalation. He turns to look at Sasuke, but that brings their noses within centimeters of each other—too close; intimately close—so Sasuke looks back at his knees.

“Really? How soon will that be? How long will you be staying?”

“I don’t know,” Sasuke says. “I won’t stay long.”

But Naruto isn’t discouraged. He grins.

“Sakura will be glad to see you,” is all he says. He doesn’t ask Sasuke to stay again. He understands. Felt Sasuke’s vagrant heart in the fist colliding with his jaw yesterday afternoon.

Without Sasuke realizing it, Naruto’s arm has come to be pressed almost fully against his own, shoulder to elbow. The warmth of his bare skin seeps through Sasuke’s shirt.

The quiet becomes a tangible thing again, a blanket wrapped around them both. Sasuke is often cold when he wakes up in the dark, but tonight Naruto is a furnace at his side. He could sleep here, he thinks, but instead he just closes his eyes and exists. Breathes in—the warm, sleepy smell of Naruto’s skin, the wood of the windowsill, dust, rust, rain. The hours between now and sunrise suddenly seem too short.

>>> 

Morning light brings a fight over breakfast that results in three broken dishes and a nearly dislocated shoulder on Naruto’s part.

Naruto leaves before noon, carrying the arm with him. He waves at the city’s perimeter guard with a chipper smile and a nasty black eye.

>>> 

Four months later, Naruto is inaugurated as Nanadaime Hokage of the Land of Fire. The ceremony is attended by every citizen of Konohagakure as well as hundreds of pilgrims from outlying villages and other countries. The Daimyos of every land are gathered, as well as the Elders, Kages, and representatives of all nations. The noise is tremendous. A sea of faces floods the streets as far as the eye can see, loud, bright, and smiling.

Gazing out over the chaos from the roof of Hokage Tower, holding still as he is ceremonially draped in the traditional Hokage regalia, Naruto’s eyes find Sasuke in the crowd like a compass finds north. He thinks about what Rock Lee said, months and months ago.

>>> 

After the post-ceremony celebrations die down to a dull roar, Naruto ducks out of the chaos to meet with Sasuke and Tsunade in the nearly deserted medical ward. It takes time, as it did with Naruto, but Tsunade weaves the synthetic tissue of the arm with Sasuke’s organic tissue easily enough. Afterwards, however, she demands he remain in Konoha at least a week to make sure his body accepts the foreign tissue. The Uchiha acquiesces with typical bad grace.

Later that night, Naruto, weary from the long day, ushers Sasuke through the doors of his pristine apartment. Stacked boxes balance precariously in every corner, only one empty cup of ramen sits on the kitchen table, and not a single dirty article of clothing lies on the dark planks of the floor.

As newly-minted Hokage, Naruto’s new home is large and has more than one bedroom, but Naruto still makes a pallet on the floor beneath the open window for Sasuke. The night is cool; the air fragrant with flowers in bloom. Sweet music plays on into the morning hours from the tavern three streets over, voices rising up in toast to the new Hokage.

Naruto and Sasuke fall asleep on the floor, shoulder to shoulder.

**Author's Note:**

> * Traditional Japanese engagement gifts. The hakama, representing fidelity, was a skirt given to the groom to wear for the wedding. A thread of white hemp, or shiraga, represents the wish for the couple to grow old together.
> 
> Gaara/Lee precipitated by reading Maldoror's fantastic story [Diplomatic Relations](http://maldoror-gw.livejournal.com/30383.html), and Sasuke's interlude with the monks heavily inspired by Gweatherwax's [The End](https://m.fanfiction.net/s/10768454/1/).  
> If you haven't read those stories, read them now!


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